


No Other Option

by SelenaEstella



Series: Prompted works [10]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Rails-With-Pails, Tentabulges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaEstella/pseuds/SelenaEstella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: rails with pails Gamkar. The pale part is important.</p><p>(I wouldn't call this smut. It is mostly pale.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Other Option

Your fists hammer incessantly onto the door of Gamzee’s hive. You don’t think you could stop even if you wanted to. Every other second you take a terrified look over your shoulder as if expecting to see a murderous troll or an imperial drone speeding over the sand towards you. You can’t breathe: panic is constricting your chest. You ran all the way, driven solely by fear, and if Gamzee doesn’t open the goddamn fuckwad door  _right the hell now_ , you are going to  _die_.

The door opens. You literally fall inside. Strong arms catch you before the floor does, though, and whisk you inside without a moment’s hesitation. Gamzee holds you close as you gasp and sob and shake in his arms. You threw up on the way over, emptied your digestion sack completely, but that doesn’t stop it from trying again. You’re a mess. Even when you stop panting you can barely do anything except cry.

Gamzee holds you through all of it, attention focused on nothing but you, and eventually you regain enough control to breathe normally again and stop the pointless tears.

‘Bro?’ Gamzee asks quietly. You scrub at your face with your sleeve as the mortal embarrassment begins to creep in. Luckily you think Gamzee was the only witness, although you’re pretty sure that a few of your neighbours must’ve seen the mad dash you made from your hive.

‘I’m gonna die, Gamzee,’ you say hoarsely, throat raw. Your moirail’s grip tightens a fraction. You bury your face against his rumpled T-shirt and breathe in his scent, that mix of sweat and paint you find oddly comforting.

He picks you up like you’re a sack of feathers and takes you deeper into his hive. You’re glad to be away from the door. There’s a block that's used solely as the place for feelings-jams and other pale pastimes - Gamzee takes you there and your heart rate instantly starts to slow. You feel safe here, which all things considered is a motherfucking _miracle_ right now.

Gamzee settles into the pile of cushions, and arranges you and himself so that the two of you are lying facing each other, but still touching. His purple-tinged eyes stare at you with the gentlest concern you have ever seen in any troll and you start to feel almost guilty for freaking out so much.

‘What’s wrong?’ he says, taking your hands in his and lightly brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. Thank God he knows how much you exaggerate shit or he’d have probably done the most magnificent backflip off the handle that Alternia has ever seen by now.

‘The drones, Gamzee,’ you whisper, telling yourself that you're being quiet because you’re throat is still blazing like fire, and _not_ because you’re convinced that they’ll hear you if you speak too loudly. ‘I don’t have a fucking kismesis. I am  _going_  to  _die_.’ You know that Gamzee’s filled both of his quadrants,  _somehow_ , so he doesn't have to worry. But you haven't, and you can’t just act like a desperate tool because whoever you... did _it_ with would have to already know about your blood or there’d be no point in trying to survive in the first place.

Honestly you just want to feel safe for a while before resigning to you your fate.

‘Don’t got  _no one_ , brother?’ Gamzee sounds slightly incredulous. You shake your head, biting your lip in a futile attempt to stop the tears from starting to roll down your cheeks again.

‘N-no one who would come a single shit-fucking  _millimetre_  near me once they found out about my blood!’ You’re gasping again, lungs pumping air as if you’re running a freaking marathon and not lying down in the most calming environment you know of.

Gamzee pulls you to him again, crushes you to his body until your breathing slows once more.

‘Karbro…’ he whispers eventually, ‘ _we_  could do something…’ It takes you a moment to work out what you’re getting at. Then a few more to wrap your pan around the fact that he  _actually suggested it_. Pushing away from him slightly, you stare into Gamzee’s face with a mixture of incredulousness and horror.

‘We  _can’t_ ,’ you hiss, ‘it’s fucking  _illegal_ , for one thing! A-and—!’

Then he shooshes you, low and long and gentle. You automatically go still, a little limp even, although you’re still trembling slightly. Gamzee raises his hand, perfectly controlled, and rubs at the bases of your horns.

‘You ain’t got to die, bro,’ he says softly, breath lightly tickling your ear.

‘But I don’t want to—! Not with  _you_ —!’ You can barely speak. You are far too much of a jumbled mess of worry and fear and shame to even complete a sentence. Gamzee strokes you hair, focusing you and you alone and somehow keeping you just a little calmer than you would otherwise be.

‘Don’t  _want_  you to die, brother,’ he murmurs. With a hiccuping sob you bury your face into his neck and try not to burst into tears  _again_. This is horrible. Moirails aren't supposed to even  _consider_  this, but no, you’re way too much of reproductively incompetent asshole to fill both required quadrants and so  _he’ll_  have to suffer it with you and risk  _culling_  if anyone finds out, but he  _has_ to or you’ll die and he’ll lose a third of his reason for living.

Why does life hate you so much???

'Ok,' you whisper. Gamzee immediately gets up and walks to another block while you curl up on yourself and tightly hug a cushion. You hear the door close on his return and the sound of something being set on the floor shortly after. So yeah, that… that must be a pail, holy shit, this is actually a thing that is happening…

You’ve started to hyperventilate again. Fucking hell.

Gamzee lies down beside you again, holds you, rocks you gently as you struggle to get yourself back under control. It helps. And when you lean away your hands have stopped shaking enough that you can pull of his shirt with only minimal difficulty, and you only have to swallow twice before leaning in to kiss him.

Gamzee lets you lead the way, doing nothing to you until you've done it first to him. His body is cold, his hands even colder, but your own temperature is so high his skin quickly warms.

Somehow it’s still pale, even with his tongue in your mouth and your hands twisted in his hair. It’s gentle, it’s slow, and if your death wasn't looming like a black hole behind you and if Gamzee wasn’t your only lifeline, then it might even be comforting. You think, possibly, that you might have read somewhere (when you were very young and only just starting to learn about these things), that it isn't uncommon for moirails to  _sometimes_  have sex, especially if one of more of them doesn’t have any other outlet.

Actually filling a pail though… contributing to the slurry…

…Well, that’s something else. And by that you mean, such huge levels of taboo it barely exists in anything other than internet legends, not even rumours because if even the  _slightest_   _suggestion_  of an account of a troll pailing their moirail is found then you will be in shitloads of trouble and could even get culled.

Actual evidence? Slated for culling. Caught in the act? Culled on the spot.

Fear may be a turn-on for your shitty race, but not in this way. It’s the fear of being culled that  _makes_  trolls pail, but this is completely the opposite. Making it worse is the fact that you feel nothing but diamonds for this troll and can’t even begin to consider him hot.

So it takes a long time for even the slightest hint of heat in your groin to appear and even longer for your bulge to show the smallest amount of interest. Gamzee isn’t impatient though, despite the fact that his body is reacting so much faster than yours and that  _he_  doesn’t seem to be feeling any fear  _at all_.

Your hands twitch towards his pants and then you just freeze, breath coming in short gasps, heart pounding so hard you think it might break a rib. You’re stuck in a mental paradox of  _having_  to do something but being unable to  _actually do it_.

Only then does Gamzee take the lead. His long fingers reach for your belt, undo the buckle without any hurry and then start to pull your pants down. With a jolt you quickly shift so that he can get them all the way off, and once he’s put them aside you curl up against his bare chest again. You need a moment to breathe.

‘You ever done this before, bro?’ Your throat has acquired an unmovable stone, so you have to shake your head instead of speaking. Gamzee rubs the place between your shoulder blades and presses his lips against your forehead in an almost-kiss.

‘’S gonna be ok,’ he breathes, then starts planting actual kisses along your hairline. You somehow swallow past the rock that settled on your voice box and, after a couple of tries, croak out some words.

‘Does it hurt?’ You know you’ll feel embarrassed afterwards, and make Gamzee swear on the pale bond between you never to tell  _anyone_  you asked this question  _ever_ , but right now you need to know.

‘A little. You’ll be ok.’ Goddamn, since when was your moirail this  _competent_ in  _sex?_

You refuse to think about any experience he might have had, which he must have, since he’s managed to be better at this than you.

Outdone by a stoner clown. Nobody will  _ever_  let you forget this.

Still holding you to him with one arm, Gamzee wiggles out of his own pants. Then his boxers. It feels weird to be peeking – which you are, face still half-hidden against his shoulder – but you think you might as well  _see_  the thing that’s gonna be… yeah.

Gamzee’s bulge is formidable, twisting against his thighs and glistening purple, and it’s still only half out. It’s going to hurt more than ‘a little’, goddammit… although you’ll admit that the sight is maybe a  _tiny_  bit arousing? Or it would be if it wasn’t your fucking  _pale-pal’s_ bulge.

You stop looking, and focus on removing your own boxers instead. Gamzee has to help a little because your hands are shaking again, and once they’re off it’s all cold and you feel so exposed and you want to stop but you can’t.

Desperately you rub your fingers over the tip of your bulge, which is just about showing if you squint down between your legs. Anyone else would probably be laughing at the fact that you’re clearly not aroused, but Gamzee is so wonderfully patient and amazing and it only makes it feel  _more_  wrong, because you’re so pale for him and this is the last thing you want to be doing with him.

You really,  _really_  do not want those claws of his anywhere near your junk and also you don’t really want foreplay, either, except to push your own fingers into your nook (ow) in an attempt to stretch yourself a little and so maybe make it  _slightly_  less painful when…  _it_  has to happen.

‘Ready?’ You nod, then close your eyes. Gamzee arranges you so that you’re straddling just below his hips, more his thighs really, sort of kneeling on the floor, arms under his in a hug and face buried into the curve between his neck and shoulder. His hands are on your hips, steering you down and towards him. You don’t look.

The feel of the tip of his bulge against your nook, coiling and pulsing and not quite near enough to penetrate, makes you gasp and tense. Gamzee starts rocking you again, one hand on your back now, but only slightly. He murmurs nonsense words of comfort as you cling and shake and  _try_  to relax.

He senses when you’re ready and continues, lowering you down onto him very, very slowly. Part of you wants him to do it quickly, to get it over with, but from what you’ve seen of his bulge that would tear you in two.

The tip isn’t so bad, though it’s cold and definitely a weird sensation. It’s probably going to hurt him, your realize miserably, being in someone so hot.

There doesn’t seem to be a gap between it feeling weird and starting to hurt. It  _stings_. You’re a virgin and he’s big and you’re already being stretched despite the fact that you’re less than halfway down. The thing  _ripples_  inside you and you bite back and whimper and there’s  _still more_  and it hurts. There’s no way you’re big enough to take all of him, you’re sure, and perhaps you’ll die anyway from internal bleeding or some shit because it feels  _way_   too big to be ok.

But somehow you’re still in once piece when your hips meet his. You’ve taken all of him… holy shit.

Your breath comes in little shuddery sips as your thighs tremble and you  _feel_ it inside you, every pulsing inch, so deep you think it must be curling against your spine, gently throbbing as it stretches you wider than you think should be possible.

But at least there’s nothing more.

Then it moves. Very slightly, but enough to make you gasp and claw at Gamzee’s back in shock. It didn’t  _hurt_  so much as feel really, really weird. You haven’t exactly… touched yourself much. Just… the sight of all the red makes you cringe and that’s usually it for any kind of arousal. The point is, you don’t really know what to expect. It’s scary but…  _almost_  exciting?

Maybe if it wasn’t  _Gamzee_  inside you, it’d be different.

Wrapping his arms firmly around you he starts to move a little more, getting you used to the sensation. It occurs to you belatedly that you should probably be participating, but you’re still too much in shock just from being entered to do anything but keep stock still and let your partner do the work.

It’s…  _starting_  to feel good, you think, although you’re not really sure what to expect. The pain is fading steadily and there’s something about the stretch that feels more than just not-bad. You shift slightly, just to see what will happen and oh god, that actually felt good, fucking  _yes_ , do that again…

Rough movements still cause pain but now the stretch of your nook is pleasurable. You moan, clenching around the length inside you as it does something particularly good. Your own bulge is definitely active now, twisting and coiling around itself, desperate to find friction. Heck, isn’t this meant to be a two-way thing?

You angle your hips downward slightly, pleasure humming through you are you move. Gamzee gets it and shifts slightly, giving you access. Your bulge stretches outwards, seeking any kind of contact and then—

_Yes. God, freaking, YES!_

_This_  is sex. You are filling and being filled. Slick walls clench around your bulge, sending ways of pleasure shooting through your groin every time you move. If there’s still any pain, you can’t feel it under how overwhelmingly  _good_  everything is. Your roll your hips, moaning as sweet, warm throbbing length inside you moves too and your bulge is met with wonderful tightness.

A rhythm builds up as you roll and thrust your hips, drunk on pleasure and not caring if the whole damn planet hears you moan. Heat and pressure build in your groin as you move as hard and as fast as you can,  _desperate_  for more.

You are moved suddenly onto your knees, legs far apart, and whine as you lose some of the bulge inside you. This position is so much harder but you realize the necessity when you feel the cold metal of the pail against your thighs. Oh, god, you’re close. You can feel it coming, you are so,  _so_  close…!

You throw back your head as you come, eyes closed, lips parted in a breathy groan as the orgasm rocks through your body in delicious waves of raw sensation. You start to come down, only to be assaulted by pleasure again as your nook is filled with genetic material.

Everything feels slightly unreal. Dreamlike. You don’t notice withdrawing but you feel the hollow emptiness of your nook as Gamzee’s bulge retracts. Faintly you hear the obscene sound of genetic material splattering into the pail but everything sounds slightly muffled. You’re still riding your sex high and everything is amazing.

Even the heinousness of the act you just committed feels insignificant next to how wonderful everything is. The pail is moved and sluggishly you turn your head to look. It is filled just over halfway with liquid, not looking very significant in anyway,  _certainly_  not looking as if a mutant contributed to it. That is nothing if not reassuring.

Gamzee pulls you down to lay beside him, against him, and you smile sleepily in his general direction. He smiles back, not looking as exhausted as you feel but just as content. You are so,  _so_  pale for him... this hasn't ruined it. You think that actually, that was one of the things you were most afraid of. Ruining this quadrant. But you haven't. It might even have gotten better... You'll think about it more when you're more than semi-conscious...

It only takes a second for your eyes to slip closed, and you fall asleep to the sound of Gamzee’s heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> Please alert me to any mistakes/typos etc. I've already spotted three so far.


End file.
